


by the last light

by galaxy_witch



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blood, M/M, Murder, Murder Husbands, Murderers, Revenge, Serial Killers, Violence, bloodplay if u squint, even as serial killers these two are soft and in love ok, the violence is pretty mild imo but read at your own risk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 21:50:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17670755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxy_witch/pseuds/galaxy_witch
Summary: Shiro knows he should have run; he should have told Keith that he was out of his mind, and that he needed help. But Keith looked at him likethat,and told him that everything,everythinghe did was all for Shiro.She hurt you, Takashi. Now she’ll never hurt you again.So, like a dog at the hand of his master, he followed.





	by the last light

**Author's Note:**

> I recently re-watched Hannibal the TV show, and it inspired me to write some murder husbands!Sheith. 
> 
> There isn’t quite a Hannibal level of gore in this, but I’ve decided to tag “major depictions of violence” just to be on the safe side – as there is both blood and violence. With that said, be mindful of the tags and read at your own risk. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

 

 

Shiro drops the knife and pays no attention to the sound it makes as it clatters to and slides across the floor.

The smell of blood overwhelms him, so he closes his eyes for a moment. This has become somewhat of a ritual–a necessary mantra that stunts the high. The darkness behind his eyelids suppresses both the panic and euphoria that fills him at the sight of crimson against the white marble floor. His chest rises and falls as the quiet settles around him.

Keith is always composed. He’s the calm before and after the storm, needing no intermission to regain the ounce of sanity still left in him–maybe there isn’t any left at all.

They were careful, as they always were, and avoided getting blood on the Kashan rug and recreation Victorian sofas. A man of Sendak’s stature, a corrupt surgeon with more money than his soul is worth, wouldn’t just disappear while leaving behind blood stains on the furniture.

Despite being careful, he and Keith are cutting it close. The deep blue of the early morning sky will soon turn a burning orange, but Shiro thinks that the light will catch up to them before the cops can. They will be gone just before the sun rises, leaving behind no blood, no weapons, no body, and absolutely nothing to prove that they were connected to the disappearances of a few crooked doctors.

Shiro is also certain of the lifeless body lying in front of him. Whether or not there are gods, Shiro knows that he and Keith are playing with the world’s natural order. Maybe one day Zeus or Ra will strike them down; or maybe they’ll go like Bonnie and Clyde, except there won’t be a stolen 1934 Ford Deluxe and a hail of bullets. Sometimes when Shiro drifts to sleep he sees himself half-dead on the floor with Keith lying next to him. He’s pale and covered in his own blood, and still breathtakingly beautiful. Keith’s last words are little whispered reassurances, reminding Shiro that all these people deserved to die–and in the end, so did he and Shiro.

These dreams remind Shiro of Keith’s words after their first casualty on this acrimonious crusade.

 _She needed to die, she deserved to die_ , Keith said to him after the murder of Doctor Sanda.

Shiro can still feel the phantom ache at the edge of his bicep where his prosthetic starts, but it hurts a little less now that Keith has helped him get his revenge.

Shiro remembers the mixture of rage and delight that flashed through Keith’s eyes as he slit Sanda’s throat, blood pooling in her lap and bathing Keith’s hands red. Keith turned to Shiro then, with blood still spilling out of her, and offered Shiro the most genuine smile; one that had only ever been directed at Shiro. The light in Keith’s eyes was reserved for only him to see.

Shiro knows he should have run, or screamed, or yelled; he should have told Keith that he was out of his mind, and that he needed help. But Keith looked at him like _that_ , and told him that everything, _everything_ he did was all for Shiro.

_She hurt you, Takashi. Now she’ll never hurt you again._

So, like a dog at the hand of his master, he followed.

The killing didn’t stop at Doctor Sanda. Keith made it clear that the surgeons–who wrongfully amputated Shiro’s arm as a result of a few broken bones, just to add him to their unlawfully long list of experimentees–needed to answer for their malpractice.

And Shiro now understands the euphoria of revenge–the ability to control, to take, to feel.

It was after sneaking into Doctor Zarkon and Honerva’s mansion that Shiro personally experienced the bliss of taking a life.

The dark of the early morning cloaked their silent movement into the home and up to the room where the surgeon couple slept. Keith silently encouraged Shiro to move in on Zarkon as he held his own blade up to a sleeping Honerva. Keith gave Shiro a nod, signaling him proceed. It happened so fast that the memory of his hand moving to Zarkon’s throat and slashing it open is now blurred in his mind, but he does remember seeing the life leave the doctor’s eyes after a few stunted breaths.

When they were finished Keith shoved him to the ground and kissed him, ignoring the blood and the bodies and their time-sensitive escape; Shiro felt happy and safe in Keith’s arms despite the circumstances. Shiro knew then that he was in love, but that eventually Keith would be his downfall.

Shiro’s mind now wanders back to his body and he opens his eyes, relishing in the peace he feels looking at Sendak’s dead body, knowing that he took his life back from those who initially tried to take it. Shiro turns to find Keith examining his hands, cursing to himself at the blood under his nails.

“I need a fucking vacation,” Keith huffs, turning his head towards Shiro and offering him a small smirk–the one reserved only for him–and Shiro can’t help but smile back.

“Where do you wanna go, baby?” Shiro replies and approaches Keith, who was two-feet-too-far away. Keith hums as he wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck, eyes concentrating on the corpse staining the marble floor as he contemplates their next destination.  

“The stars,” Keith answers as he turns back to Shiro and leans into his warmth. Shiro brings a bloody hand to Keith’s cheek, reveling in Keith’s own warmth. “But first–Venice, I’ve always wanted to visit Doge’s Palace.”

“Oh?” Shiro teases and slips the pad of his thumb passed Keith’s lips. Keith’s sucks him in, languidly lapping up the drying blood like it’s honey–to them it may as well be. Shiro groans and pulls his finger out so he can grip Keith’s hair, bringing him in for a bruising kiss.

His mouth melts on Keith’s, and he knows he could get lost chasing after Keith’s lips if he didn’t control himself. They’re running out of time, so Shiro reluctantly pulls away.

“How about Vegas first?” Shiro proposes. Keith smiles and presses one more chaste kiss to the side of Shiro’s jaw.

“Hm,” Keith considers. “Only if I can ride that death coaster at the top of Stratosphere Tower.”

“Anything for you, baby,” Shiro says in earnest, hoping Keith knows to what lengths Shiro would go for him, and that he’ll follow Keith to the edge of the earth–even if it means burning out completely.

The tender moment they share can only last a moment. 

 

 

The sun rises at 6:42am. They leave nothing behind, or so they think–Shiro’s blood-stained knife lies forgotten underneath the faux Victorian.  

They won’t make it to Vegas.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points if you know what song the title is from 😉  
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/emotabek) ll [tumblr](http://emotabek.tumblr.com)


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